


Arc Reactor

by JadeyKins



Series: Arsonist's Lullaby [2]
Category: Constantine (TV), DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), Hellblazer & Related Fandoms
Genre: Because I totally needed another rare pair in my head, Joan of Arc - Freeform, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Ray and John are going to get flirty, he's hard on himself, mentions of Sara/John, probably going to wind up including Sara/Ava in some fashion, the M rating is for John's negative thought cycles which may be triggering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-04-18 03:48:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14204391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadeyKins/pseuds/JadeyKins
Summary: Desperate to get Sara a good night's sleep, the crew concocts a plan to get a divinely-touched power source for a magic device Ray's inventing.Time to see if Joan of Arc's willing to lend the crew a hand.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As with Arsonist's Lullaby, this fic is inspired by a desire to shake up the narrative that just because you have magic, your mental instabilities aren't actually mental instabilities. John Constantine struggles with depression and PTSD--many of the Legends should probably be facing that honestly.
> 
> I haven't watched the episode where Wally joins the crew, but I like him there. So consider this after they get Ray back (I'll try to catch up) and before they go to get the death amulet from Elvis, apparently. (I saw the episode had Grace in the title and then claimed the whole 'beginning of rock and roll' and I just... couldn't. Elvis wasn't the beginning of rock and roll and while I love Legends, I don't trust them to address that).
> 
> Anyway, the M rating, once again, is for John's mental soundtrack. Not always a pleasant place.  
> And no, I have no idea why my brain has latched onto this idea of Ray and John. Sweet cinnamon roll and burnt cinnamon roll? I don't know. But if it's going to play in my head, I'm going to share it.

Mick Rory sank into a chair in the captain’s office, pulling the cap off a beer in the same motion. Out of all the crew, Mick was the only one on board who didn’t seem to give a damn about anything. Sara had been tempted to leave him at some beach, but he came in handy in a fight and he didn’t seem to _want_ to go anywhere. His presence was reassuring in a strange way. He gave voice to the violent thoughts and made it so she could reject them outright. And his experience on the _Waverider_ meant some of the other team members felt comfortable going to him for advice. Mick didn’t tend to give kind or meaningful words—again, it came down to a question of wanting to—but Sara had a feeling that when something did matter to him, he’d have no problem voicing what he wanted or getting the support he needed.

Unless it was about murder or theft, but he didn’t seem to care much about that either these days.

He guzzled half the beer while she continued reading the most recent time distortion chart. “I see we’ve put Other English in rotation.”

“John’s not exactly a field man, but I don’t see any reason to force him to stay on board either. We could use his help,” Sara mused. She’d need to confer with John and maybe Nate, but she was pretty sure there was nothing mystical about that anomaly in Germany around 1550. Nor did it seem to give relate to any pattern.

“What’re you up to?”

“Trying to track our first English. Seems Rip escaped the custody of the Time Bureau.”

“You mean those guys couldn’t manage to hold their former boss? Shocker.”

Sara snorted. Rip was clever and there was every chance he’d had inside help. She wasn’t so worried about him as about Mallus, the anomalies, or finding the Six. Well, finding four of the Six since she had a pretty good feeling Zari and Amaya were two of them.

“You know you can’t trust him, right?” Mick said.

“We’ve been burned enough by Rip. I know better.”

“Not him. Current English.”

Nate must have ran his mouth about Ravenscar. Sara pursed her lips and glared over her shoulder at him, slowly turning to keep eye contact. “Look, just because he spent time in a mental hospital—”

“He did time in a ward?” Mick grunted. “Should’ve figured. But that’s not what I mean. Since when have we had good luck with guys in trench coats?”

“Rip wore one.”

“Yeah, and look how that turned out. Multiple times.”

Sara leaned against the desk and folded her arms over her chest. Playing devil’s advocate to Mick’s sense of “wrong” amused her, especially when he was being completely irrational. “Okay. You may have a point. But we can hardly go around judging people based on their attire.”

“How about if they’re a thief and a liar?” Mick asked.

“And how would you know that?”

“Besides the smarmy act he does when he walks in a room? I had Gideon give me the dirt on him.”

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Sara said.

“Maybe you _should_ have.” When Sara moved to protest, Mick held up a hand. “When you went AWOL to the past, the team, for some stupid reason, turned to _me_. Maybe they would’ve talked to Leo if he was here, but he wasn’t. With Stein and Jax gone, they’ll look to someone who can settle disputes. Now, Snart had me doing that as his second, when he didn’t feel like he had to hold my leash and reign me in. When my captain’s getting blinded by a bunch of pretty blonds, I feel the urge to cover my captain’s ass. Especially when one of the team comes back babbling about how the new guy shouted at a demon about bodies.”

Okay, Mick had a good point there and maybe he wasn’t as uncaring about the team as Sara thought. She probably should have vetted John better, but he’d been good enough for Oliver to call in and he’d come asking help for a little girl. Oliver didn’t always have the best judgment about others and the girl turned out to be Nora Darhk. Ra’z would be pissed she didn’t start seeing John as a player sooner. But if there was a game involved, Sara couldn’t see the board.

“Did you find anything I should know about?” Sara said.

“Things and people have a habit of getting destroyed when they stand too close to him.”

“You could say the same thing about us.”

“True, but I like to think we don’t wind up sending the people in our crossfire to Hell. At least, not the ones who don’t deserve it.”

Gideon must have a file on Astra. “I wasn’t completely clueless about that.”

“Well, you put on a better game face than I thought.”

“Anything else?”

“Yeah.” Mick rose from his seat, off to get another beer no doubt. “He asks to go to Newcastle in 2000, tell him no. Maybe have Gideon block it from navigation.”

Or make it so only she or Mick could order the ship to go there. She was pretty sure John wouldn’t be able to con his way past Mick, not for that goal if Mick was already aware of what lay at the other end. Anyone else, far more likely they’d fall to John’s charisma.

“Thanks for the advice.”

Mick grunted and turned to leave.

“I mean it!” she called after him. He only waved a hand and walked off. Mick still had her back. An unexpected comfort.

 

*******

 

“You can’t just slap a spell on the side and expect it to keep shoveling out the magic you want,” John complained. He hadn’t showered in three days, hadn’t slept in about four, and Ray and Zari had started giving him a much wider berth. Fine by him, especially if they were going to be idiots, yet again, on the fundamentals of magic. “If something like, say carving a spell onto a bullet worked, there’d be a whole lot more magical weapons.”

“That’s why I want to experiment with more frequencies,” Ray said. Again. He was getting perturbed too.

“Frequency,” John spat.

“Look, everything in reality has to have some way of being in contact with everything else in reality. Everything touches something.”

“Aye, but magic is what’s _between_ all the touching.”

“It’s like you get off on not making any sense,” Ray snapped.

“Why don’t we all take a breather?” Zari suggested, though John knew exactly whose side she was on. Ray’s. They’d been hacker-flirting all over the lab, though neither one was committing to it.

If the Boy Scout swung towards men, John could put a wedge between them. Sex to achieve his ends was the least of a long list of terrible things he’d done.

But Ray was just so damn _wholesome_. Being around good guys tended to skew John’s priorities towards the light and messing with Ray’s head too far was something John’s conscience wouldn’t let him do. Yet.

As for attempting to connect with Zari on a more physical level, well, for some reason her disdain mutated to disgust two days ago. Could’ve been the smoking. Or not showering. Or the dumbass comments he’d made about religion before he realized she was Muslim and from a time that outlawed religion altogether. Not one of his finer moments.

“Mr. Constantine, Captain Lance would like to speak to you on the bridge.”

Which was probably bullocks. At his—and Sara’s—request, Gideon was keeping his medication schedule private. Sometimes he remembered on his own, but more often she’d been pulling this “someone outside of the room conveniently wants to speak to you right now” routine. A good enough rouse, so long as no one caught one.

Considering the look Zari was giving him, John figured he had about one more day until she realized something was up with him. Maybe less.

“Right then. Captain calls,” John said as he strode towards the exit.

“Take a shower before you come back in here!” Zari said after him.

“And maybe get something to eat!” Softer, Ray said to Zari, “Because I haven’t seen him eating. Have you seen him eating?”

“Do I _care_?” Zari said, just as John was starting to get some real distance between him and them.

Right, so Zari only wanted him to bathe because he reeked and Ray was too much of a Boy Scout not to comment when someone wasn’t taking care of themselves. They weren’t ordered by Sara to keep a close eye on him. His paranoia could ease on down to normal levels already.

“Captain Lance does actually want a word with you, after you’ve stopped by the galley for a quick bite.”

Still with the coded messages. Bless the smart computer for not assuming they couldn’t be overheard. “All right, love. Let’s get me properly fed.”

“Ms. Tomaz’s suggestion would be a wise choice as well.”

“Well, that’s going to take _time_ , isn’t it? And Sara wants a conversation.”

“I am sure she will understand if you need another few minutes to prepare yourself.”

John stopped in the hall and glared up at the ceiling. “You already told her I’m taking one.”

“And locked the others out from the bathroom unless they are having an emergency. The shower is wide open.”

“Cheeky computer.”

“You’re wrong, Mr. Constantine. I’m a cheeky _AI_.”

 

*******

 

Even though he was freshly showered, medicated, and fed, John’s mood hadn’t much improved by the time he stepped into the captain’s office. Sara sat watching a time chart with an old book in her lap. She still had bags under her eyes. Neither of them were solving their sleep issues. Maybe John should suggest an old fashioned way of relieving some stress and raising endorphins. Or maybe screwing around with the crew was the most reckless thing he could engage in at the moment and that’s why he was so obsessed with it. The new shrink at Ravenscar had tried telling him something to that effect this last time—not that John had listened very well.

John rolled up his sleeves as he stood in the doorway. “Right then, so is this a ‘called into the principal’s office’ kind of conversation or do you need something specific from me, love?’

“I need you to not call me that for starters,” Sara said. She pointed at herself without looking up from her chart. “Me captain, you crewmate. Got it?”

“You didn’t seem to mind in 1969,” John said testily as he strode into the room. He slipped his hands into his pockets, going for his usual bravado stance.

Except, of course, Sara was a former member of the League of Assassins, associate of Oliver Queen, and _captain_ of her own time ship where she went up against demons and other issues of a massive scale. He could tell she wasn’t impressed as she set down the time chart and folded her hands together in her lap. He switched tactics, sitting on the edge of her desk and going for a grin. Which also didn’t seem to affect her. Their one-time thing was _definitely_ a one-time thing then. Usually he pulled that card, had to push the partner away and put up the hard wall, but she was the one doing so already.

And what a bloody relief _that_ was. John actually relaxed. “All right, captain. Gideon said you wanted a conversation.”

“I wanted to see how you were adjusting to the _Waverider_.”

“If you’re asking how we’re coming along in the lab, it’s probably a match shy of blowing a powder keg,” John said.

“Zari may have mentioned something yesterday,” Sara said. “But that wasn’t what I was asking. I meant, how are you feeling?”

“Right as rain,” John lied.

Sara did not seem to buy it. She scowled at him. “That isn’t the impression I’ve been getting.”

Her words pushed John’s mood into the deep well of annoyance he’d struggled to stay clear of. His voice went sharp, more than he wanted but there was no holding the vitriol in. “Well, if I’m not performing to expectations, you can drop me right back where you found me.”

“That isn’t what I meant either, John. You, Ray, and Zari have been locked up in the lab for days without any result and I’m afraid of how unhealthy that is for all three of you.”

“Because of me.”

“Because three extremely capable, smart people in constant conflict over an impossible problem isn’t good for anyone’s mental health,” Sara said.

“Much less one already compromised,” John said, the edge in his voice unmistakable.

Sara’s expression went more neutral. The kind of face she probably put on just before executing whoever Ra’z Al Ghul put in her path. Good face for an assassin or captain. Not so good of one for a mark or friend. Definitely one John had invoked on other people, like that new shrink.

Huh, maybe the new shrink had been an assassin too.

“Look, I get that you’re in a new situation and you’re stressed out, but you need to stop jumping to conclusions about what I’m thinking, especially if I haven’t had the chance to communicate anything. Got it?”

“Yeah, sure,” John said.

Despite his tone, Sara seemed to take that as enough of an answer because she sat back in her chair and dropped the assassin neutrality. “What is the problem in the lab?”

“Technology and magic aren’t supposed to be mixed.”

“I thought any good technology was indistinguishable from magic.”

“All respect to the original quote of that, but notice it doesn’t apply the other way around and certainly doesn’t mention the marriage of the two.”

“Maybe we should have a crew brainstorming meeting. See if we can generate some new ideas that way,” Sara said.

Because what John needed to do was repeat the last three days in front of everyone else. “Don’t think that’ll work, lo-captain.”

“How about this: you guys don’t make any headway in four hours and that’s what we do,” Sara said. “I can’t keep us in the time stream searching for an answer forever.”

She may as well call the damn thing now, but at least John had managed to flex some control over the situation. Given a few hours, he could prepare himself for the inevitable useless conversation. “Seems as though we have a plan.”


	2. Chapter 2

When John came back and announced they had a whole four hours to figure out the protection barrier or Sara would bring in the whole crew, Zari crossed her fingers and hoped the time would fly fast. She’d spent most of the last four days fiddling with code and listening to arguments. John was crass, stubborn, and completely unbending about his ideas of reality—which was a funny irony considering how he broke the rules of most people’s reality in order to perform magic. He acted like he was second in command of the ship, but Zari couldn’t even consider him part of the crew yet. She knew she’d been frustrating—and regretted it to a degree—but she’d done some of it on purpose. Nobody walked onto the _Waverider_ and acted like they were the MVP, especially not jackasses who couldn’t bother taking other people’s healthy lungs into account. She’d be pissed about the second-hand smoke if they weren’t on a time ship that could probably fix cancer.

Unless Gideon couldn’t, in which case Zari would ream John a new one and deny him cigarettes for as long as it took him to break the habit. Which would probably take until eternity with the way John smoked.

At least they finally had a deadline and when no reasonable solutions presented themselves, Zari was the first to call Gideon’s name at the four hour mark. She didn’t even bother giving the boys a chance. She’d had more than enough.

The team gathered in the main room. Sara and Mick took places on the stairs leading into the captain’s quarters. Zari took control of Gideon’s main console and barely waited for the others to get into the room. She wasn’t about to let John hog the floor when she’d dealt with the ego this long. Just as he sucked in a deep breath, Zari cut him off. “Here’s what we’ve got so far. Sarah’s experiencing nightmares from Mallus. John’s best approach would be a ritual that would wind up costing the caster a good night’s sleep, which would pretty much fall on whoever would be doing the spell. And there’s every chance Mallus would continuously test the spell.”

“What if more than one person did it?” Nate asked.

Leave it to Nate to start running through the ideas John had rejected days ago. Zari leaned against the console and struggled to stay calm.

John slid his hands in his pockets and spun towards Nate. “Doable, but takes a lot of work to keep something long term going in tandem. And working a spell that way’s no easy task, squire. It gets a bit… intimate.”

“And then we’d have two worn out team members,” Sara said, blessedly ignoring John’s attempt at sexual inneundo. “Doesn’t sound all that viable.”

“Which is why Ray and I have been working on an alternative theory,” Zari added. “Magic is essentially energy. Mystical, but not undefinable. We want to find the frequency Mallus operates at and block him that way.”

“Is it possible to find that?” Amaya asked.

“Not practically,” John replied. “By the time we got done with the troubleshooting, Sara would most likely be in Mallus’s grasp.”

“Four days in the lab, and that’s all you’ve got?” Mick said. He grunted when Zari nodded and took another swallow of his beer. “Seems like you should have more.”

“Maybe we could speed up the troubleshooting?” Wally asked. “As a speedster, frequencies are kind of my thing.”

“Not sure having you run around on a time ship trying to see if I can sleep right is going to help either,” Sara replied. “That just sounds like a recipe for disaster. Especially with our luck.”

“With our luck, he’d open up a hole right to Mallus,” Nate said with a grin. When the rest of the room glared at him, he added, “It’s not that possible, right?”

“Anyway, I think we could get away with more of a field idea,” Ray said. He motioned to John. “I think it’s entirely possible to adapt John’s protection spell into technology.”

“It’s _willpower_ and _intent_ that gets you through a spell. Ain’t no trick a shiny bauble can pull off,” John said. The vitriol in his voice was enough that Zari wanted to slap him.

Ray sighed in his full-bodied frustrated way and the look he shot John was complete and utter annoyance. “If I can power an entire super suit with dwarf star, I think I can figure out how to make a machine replicate a spell.”

“Oh! What if that’s it,” Nate said. He snapped his fingers a few more times, getting excited as if he could somehow telegraph his idea through mere motion alone. Zari waited patiently, but if he didn’t start explaining she was going to find something to rip apart and put it back together just to get out her frustrations.

“What if what’s it?” Sara demanded.

Nate rose from his seat and came to the computer console to lean on it. “What if it’s the energy source? If you powered the tech with something mystical?”

The whole room looked to John. Zari tried not to grind her teeth, but Nate had a decent idea, one she wished she’d thought of.

John took his time thinking it through, milking the attention for every second it was worth. He sucked on his teeth and shook his head. “You’d need something with a lot of juice. Not something you can just stumble on in a dark alley.”

“You got anything like that?” Zari said.

John shook his head. “We’d need something of the divine, I think, for best result. My caches don’t have anything that’ll last.”

“Then what would?” Amaya said.

The room went silent, each member racking their brain for a thought. Mick answered first, his voice a deep grumble. He announced his idea as though everyone should have thought of it. “Saint’s Relic.”

“That should definitely have the juice,” Nate said. “Right?”

“Could work, there’s just one problem with it,” John replied.

Zari rolled her eyes. Of course there was a problem, but she was pretty sure she spotted this one. “Verifying a relic might be tricky and worse, they’re tied into their locations and can have a huge impact. Removing one from the timeline would damage it.”

“And we can’t do that,” Sara said.

Wally shrugged. “We’re on a time ship. Can’t we just go in, take it for as long as we need, and then return it?”

“That assumes we won’t accidentally destroy it in the process of making the field,” Ray said. “Some experimentation’s bound to happen and it might wind up breaking it.”

“Or draining it of its divinity,” John said. “We need something fresh. Something that won’t be missed.”

“A saint who hasn’t left a verified relic,” Amaya said.

Nate snapped his fingers and he whirled to John. For once his strange demeanor worked because John straightened as if he’d caught the idea. In unison they said, “Joan of Arc.”

“Jeanne D’Arc, actually,” Nate said. “The English burned her as a witch in the 1430’s. Took a few years for the Church to remove the witchcraft verdict. She wasn’t canonized until the twentieth.”

“No one kept her remains?” Amaya asked.

“Discarded, like so many of those the authorities could not control to their liking,” John replied.

Zari didn’t want to think about the many times the world had seen mass graves. Of the lost ones they couldn’t change the future of. Of the way her family had yet to be saved. She cleared her throat. “So, we go in and take a piece off Joan and use it to power the field.”

“Can’t take it,” John said.

Nate nodded along, suddenly acting as if he were a mystical expert as well. He may have tried becoming one. Zari had no idea what he was researching these days. “Something like this has to be freely given or it’s going to taint the divinity.”

“Okay, so we go in and we ask Joan nicely for—locks of hair work, right? We’re not going to start demanding fingers, are we?” Zari asked.

“Should be fine,” John said.

“Maybe we could get two,” Ray added. “Just in case.”

“Sounds like we got ourselves a plan,” Sara said as she rose from her place. “Gideon, set a course for France. Let’s try 1430?”

Nate nodded.

“1430 it is,” Sara said. “Gideon, let’s go. Time to get medieval on Mallus.”


	3. Chapter 3

Jumping through time was like shoving one’s head into a blender, hitting high speed, and then snapping it off before starting while somehow having let it run for a solid thirty minutes. John rocked into his restraints, never liking the roller coaster feel of anything other than a night on the town. His head ached worse than a bloody hangover.

Glance around the room told him that others felt much the same. Sara looked fine enough, and Amaya shoved up her metal restraint without issue. Ray shook his head a few times, popped his hand against his ear. Wasn’t no flight they’d been on, but maybe the whole time travel thing affected people differently. That would explain Ray’s reaction, who’d been used to doing this, and Mick’s loud belch. Nate shook his head and blinked his eyes rapidly, no worse for wear either. Zari, though, held onto her breath as if she were about to vomit, which if John weren’t so close to her, he wouldn’t mind happening. Wally held onto his seat as tightly as John did.

But then the cheeky little bugger zoomed out of his seat and raced over to the console in a flash. _Speedsters_. Bloody unfair advantage.

“How’d you hold up?” Ray asked.

“Mind you, could do without—” John began to say. The words sounded wrong.

Nate slammed his hand over John’s mouth and John glared at him. Nate shrugged, sheepishness in his eyes. “Sorry. You were spouting Latin. Linguistic dysplasia.”

“Considering all the spells you know, it’s probably a smart idea Nate stopped you,” Ray said.

Too right it was. The wrong words and they’d have a demon in their midst, worst than Mallus.

“It wears off,” Ray continued. “It’s just because you aren’t used to time travel and the bigger the jump, the bigger the effect. I’m sure Wally’s not doing much better.”

“I had the hiccups, or I think I was going to have the hiccups? How does time travel work with that?” Wally replied.

“So he’s fine,” Sara said as she undid her restraints.

John cursed speedsters once more. Nate thankfully pulled his hand away before John wound up biting him.

“Speedster recovery is so not fair,” Nate said. “I’m still getting whoozy on these trips.”

Wally shot them both a big grin.

“Okay team,” Sara said as she stood from her captain’s seat. “We need to blend in and find Joan of Arc without causing too major of an anachronism. Do your best not to draw attention. That means no bar fights, no duels, no any other random adventures you might think of doing. We’re not here to save the day. We’re here to ask Joan of Arc, _nicely_ , for a donation to our cause. Then we’re gone.”

“In other words, try not to screw this up,” Zari said to the room.

John glared at her. He wasn’t an idiot.

“She’s not wrong,” Sara said. “We should cover ground fast as possible. We’ll split into groups. Mick—”

“Will stay on the ship,” Mick said with his usual low growl. “I’m done with knights and tights.”

Sara shrugged. “Okay, Mick guards the ship. Nate—”

“Ooo, ooo, me and Wally,” Nate said.

That arrangement didn’t seem to please Sara as much. Amaya stepped forward. “I’ll go with them.”

“That works,” Sara said. “Zari and I will be another team which leaves Ray and John. Any problems?”

“No problemo, Captain,” Ray said with a bright smile.

“Just, try not to get into any trouble,” Sara said. She shot a mistrusting look John’s way.

Fecking hell. He was on his damn meds. Been cooperating with teammates. He didn’t need her damn judgment.

John sighed and rubbed one eye. Probably about bloody time for another round of meds, come to think of it. He’d definitely need to check before stepping off the ship into the medieval era where the closest thing to modern medicine was cutting off an ill-fated limb.

“Ray, set Wally and John up with the translators. The rest of us will start getting ready and hopefully be close to out of your way by the time you get down there,” Sara said.

Translators. Of course. How else were they going to move around in medieval France? John slowly pushed his restraint up. When he stood, his knees buckled and he grabbed onto the seat for balance. His stomach threatened to dump its few contents on the floor. He’d rather hold onto those. What had possessed him to leave Ravenscar?

No, better he didn’t think about _that_.

The others filed out of the room. Wally, ever the excited one, leaned on the console and looked to Ray. “So, what kind of translators? Is it like Star Trek?”

“Actually, I never figured out how they did it on Star Trek,” Ray said. “I guess it must have been something like Doctor Who, a psychic field. Though honestly it’d make a lot more sense if they did what we do. Gideon, can I have two translation specials, please?”

“Right away, Mr. Palmer,” Gideon replied in her ever-smooth voice. “You’ll find them in the drawer.”

“Thanks, Gideon.” Ray grinned and pulled out two little pills. He handed one to John and one to Wally.

John held the pill aloft, making a show of inspecting it. He had enough drugs in his system.

Wally stared at it as well and then he shrugged before swallowing it down.

“Just what is this, squire?” John asked.

“At a guess, it’s a nanotech that enters the bloodstream through the digestive system and relocates to the brain,” Ray replied. “Where it actually does something close to linguistic dysplasia. You speak your language, and the target hears their native language.”

“So a pill that does the TARDIS thing,” Wally said.

Ray shrugged. “Basically.”

John shook his shoulders and then dropped the pill into his mouth, swallowing it down quick. He made a face, though it had no real taste. “All right then. We’ll be able to speak to whoever, but what about accents?”

Ray gave him a blank stare. “What do you mean?”

Oh hell. How could someone so smart miss the obvious? John waved at his throat, holding a hand there. Ray’s eyes ticked to follow along. John couldn’t help noticing Ray had no problem lingering his gaze on him. “I’m _English_ , mate, and we’re about to wade into the middle of the Hundred Years’ War. I’d prefer not to get skewered by the first Frenchman looking to make a name for himself.”

Ray furrowed his brow and Wally frowned in confusion as well. Ray glanced up at the ceiling, his tell-tale sign he was about to consult the computer. “Gideon, answer please?”

“Captain Hunter has traveled to a similar time period. As far as I know, his difficulties were the consequence of his actions, not his dialect.”

“And since Rip’s also English, she means you shouldn’t have any problem,” Ray added on.

“Right then. What else do we need to do to get us ready?” John asked.

Ray’s eyes lit up, an almost infectious glee taking over him. “Now, we get to dress the part.”


	4. Chapter 4

Their current adventure to medieval times was dramatically different than other trips Ray had been on. Usually he got to dress as a knight, or a viking. Someone with a little bit of power at least. John insisted they dress more like common folk, which was all fine up until Ray got the clothes on and realized how much of a departure they were from his usual polyester blends. Not that chain mail or armor was comfortable, but at least it was impressive. Everyday peasant garb was boring. John dismissed the idea of even carrying a sword.

If Nate hadn’t backed John up on accuracy (and Gideon too), Ray would’ve fought harder for the apparel and weaponry he wanted. But John had a point. Sara and Zari were going to try for the more direct approach. Nate, Amaya, and Wally were going to the English camp to keep an eye on the enemy. That left Ray and John the local French. Considering John’s worry over accent, they probably should’ve been the ones to take the English side, but Nate had declared the intent of his group and walked off with Amaya and Wally before anyone could argue with him.

No tech. No sword. His only companion was a man he’d been locked in the lab with for the last four days. John didn’t seem to value technology either. He’d rather rely on superstition and magic. At first Ray had believed his demeanor was _so cool_ , but having to deal with him on a day to day basis was a grind on the nerves. John had even gotten prissy enough about medieval food that he insisted on stopping by the cafeteria before changing his wardrobe.

Ray wasn’t going to think about the fact he _miiiight_ have paid too much attention to the way John shed his clothes. Because there wasn’t anything between them. John was frustrating once the cool shell of macho magician wore thin. He was stubborn, and demanding, and totally dismissive of other people’s opinions.

But there were times when John joked, or teased, or enjoyed himself. Moments when he was a bit more professor of the universe—and Ray kind of had a thing for intelligence. John knew things that he didn’t and that was just…. Hot. Way hot. Totally hot. Up near Felicity or Kendra levels hot. Which was not something Ray ever thought he’d feel for a man. He kinda had and kinda hadn’t before. Intelligence was always a major turn-on. Ray couldn’t help it. People who knew a lot just activated all the right code in his mind. Run program: Lustful desire.

Ray snorted, and John frowned over at him, mystified. The mystic, mystified. Another good one Ray wasn’t sure he could share because John’s mood could be touchy. The fight with Jason Blood came to mind. The mention of bodies. Ray _itched_ to know what the cause of their argument was, but he didn’t dare try to talk about that either.

Except, come to think of it, Jason Blood was apparently an immortal being, who may or may not be wandering around. Ray and John had split off from the main group. Surely asking a few questions wouldn’t be too much of a hassle. Ray shortened his long stride, matching John’s so he didn’t outpace him too badly. “Okay, so we traveled to the year 507 and that’s when we ran into Arthur’s Camelot—”

“Bit too early by my calculations,” John said.

Ray pressed his lips together, repressed the urge to lose his temper, and then continued, “Well, that’s when we went. It gets complicated, but suffice to say there was an actual Camelot in 507.”

“Must’ve been multiple then,” John said. He had his hands shoved in his pockets. Even in medieval peasant garb, he looked pretentious. “That would explain the variances in the story.”

“ _Anyway_ ,” Ray said. “Nate promised to tell me about Jason-of-the-Blood, but we got so wrapped up in solving the Mallus problem that we never got around to story time.”

John swirled in front of him, getting a step ahead and making a full stop. He had a serious expression, more so than Oliver or Stein ever had, and Ray’s voice stuck in his throat. It wasn’t magic, but charisma. John exuded a natural, almost addictive aura. Ray knew better. Knew he ought to stay on guard, but it was nice thinking there was someone who could pool knowledge. Someone to have an intelligent conversation with beside Zari—who didn’t always want to converse. Gideon had even taken to going quite on him.

Not that John was exactly talking, yet. Ray kept waiting. And waiting.

“There are certain names,” John began softly, as if the leaves were going to rise up on the wind and gossip with the flowers or something. “Names you shouldn’t repeat, especially when you don’t know the power that lies behind them. Jason’s name is one of them. You may or may not remember another name I said to Jason’s face. If you _do_ , I’m begging you mate, don’t repeat it. Last thing our little mission needs is that demon’s attention. Understood?”

Ray nodded. “But is there anything you _can_ tell me about him? It seemed like you knew his story pretty well and we’ve got a long walk ahead of us.”

John shrugged and started walking again. “Not much to tell really. Bit like Heracules of the Greek myths. Know that story, mate?”

“You mean Hercules, the guy with the super strength and the nineties tv show?” Ray asked.

John snorted. “Less of the tv show. That was a straight up bastardization. Stories can have a way of living on past our selves, twisting and becoming something new with each generation. That television show, well, I seriously think Eros had a hand in making it is all. That and the spin-off. Especially the spinoff.”

“Hey, if you’re going to hate on Lucy Lawless, we’re going to have a serious problem,” Ray said.

John grinned—the most honest expression he’d ever made. Ray’s heart thumped at the sight, warmed him all the way through. John didn’t smile honestly all that often. Everything around him seemed to be some sort of trick. His confidence, his knowledge. Ray was never quite sure what was real and what was smoke and mirrors.

“Got no problems with the warrior queen,” John said. “Made for damn good entertainment.”

“Excuse me,” Ray said with a fake air of superiority because he was joking, “Xena was a warrior princess.”

“Come _on_ , mate. Lucy Lawless well deserves the title of Queen.”

Ray laughed. “Yeah, okay, she does.”

They meandered through the woods for a solid few minutes before Ray realized John had ducked his question. He did that a lot. Irritating, but a lot like Oliver in that regard. Actually, one of Oliver’s more annoying traits. And his father’s. His bother too, come to think of it. Why did men have to continually hide who they were from one another? Ray scowled at the ground. “You didn’t tell me about Jason. We got side tracked.”

“I’ll give you points for remembering, squire,” John said.

“Still not an answer.”

John sighed loudly, as if the mere idea drastically put him out. “Gossip’s not my thing.”

Ray snorted and shook his head. “Seriously? The last few days, you keep gaslighting me and Zari. I don’t know if you’re doing it on purpose, but something tells me you are the kind to gossip.”

John strolled on for a few steps and Ray was sure he’d pissed him off. Just as he was about to apologize, John sighed, rolled his shoulder down so he faced Ray more, and said, “All right then. Here’s the thing about Jason. I mentioned Heracules because much like that bloke, he didn’t have much of a choice. Merlin, _the_ Merlin, bound his soul to a demon’s in the middle of a combat to save Camelot. Unfortunately for Jason, Camelot didn’t survive terribly much longer and he had this demon under his skin. They’re bound together.”

“And the demon’s killed people,” Ray said slowly.

“Both of them have, from what I can tell,” John replied grimly.

That made Ray itch with the mystery of what John meant with the whole ‘If we’re counting dead bodies at our feet, I may have a few at mine, but you’ve got bloody Everest beneath you’ thing he’d shouted at Jason. What bodies did Constantine have? Ray had caused a lot of damage, but it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t murder. Sara had killed people. Mick too. Probably Amaya in the line of duty. But for the most part the _Waverider_ crew weren’t killers if they could help it.

“And you?” Ray asked quietly. When John grew more moody, Ray continued, “I only ask because, well, we didn’t sleep much while we were working on the project and then there was the whole thing where you basically admitted—”

“I know what I said to Jason,” John said shortly.

“I’m not judging.”

“Because you don’t know the truth, mate.” John took a deep breath. He stared off into the difference. “You better off that way. Leave my past in the far past.”

Ray shrugged, not looking at John because it was easier to talk when he wasn’t worried about being judged and so trying to show John he wasn’t going to judge either. “We’re kind of on a time ship,” he joked. “The past, present, future can happen out of order.”

John’s demeanor soured more, to a level Ray hadn’t seen since they’d left Jason’s house. “My secrets are my secrets, mate. Nothing requires me to have share them.”

His answer was curt, sharpened into a dagger by his tone. Whatever lay in his past, John definitely didn’t like talking about it. But they had a long journey ahead of them and there was something off about him. Ray was no stranger to brooding—he occasionally did it himself—but John wrapped it around him like his trench coat. Oliver’s brooding made him more leader-ly, Mick more dangerous. John was just… a bigger mystery.

And Ray had to solve puzzles. He couldn’t not solve them. Which, come to think of it, there was another one staring him in the face. He frowned, glancing up from the ground. John had gotten a few steps ahead of him. The guy could do magic, so Ray let him have the space.

“You came to us when Nora was possessed. Well, when Nora was Emily,” Ray said. “But still, possessed.”

“Aye,” John snapped. “Because she said Sara’s name. Probably what opened Sara up for Mallus’s midnight calls. So thank you for _that_ reminder.”

“Hey, that’s not what I was getting at.” Ray closed the distance between them. “But the thing is, Nora was a ward of the hospital. Shifted around by those doctors in cahoots with the Dahrks.”

“You’re lacking a point there, squire.”

Ray rolled his eyes, because the conclusion should’ve been obvious. “Meaning, there was no one to call you and tell you she was possessed. That doctor was encouraging the demon.”

John slowed and he was deliberately looking away. He came to a stop, jaw clenched. “Go ahead and ask it. Get it over with.”

There was something in John’s stance, something Ray didn’t recognize. It changed him, made him even more distant. Sullen wasn’t right. Resigned, maybe, but resigned for what? He was acting like Ray was going to hurt him.

Ray licked his lip and tried for his most delicate voice. “Well, either you somehow ran into her before she was admitted to the asylum or that’s where you met her.”

John flicked his gaze up. He had a hollow look in his eyes. “I was sizing the place up. Wasn’t quite sure I could trek back across the Atlantic before the next time I needed—” John took a deep breath and let it out. He straightened out his shoulders, ready to challenge Ray. “Some demons live in your head and all the exorcism tricks don’t get them out. Sometimes what you need’s a doctor and a place to scream where no one’s going to pay notice. Where, in fact, it is completely okay to stare at the wall and not say anything for days on end.”

“You were thinking of checking in,” Ray said slowly.

“I was. Bout to, too, when I saw her. Demonic possession has a few obvious signs to someone like me. Her case gave me enough to cling to for a short time. Nice to have a focus like that. Purpose can do wonders.”

Ray knew what he meant. The first few weeks after Anna’s death had been hell, but he’d been wrapped up in the funeral and then all the condolences and then he threw himself into work. That spiral had ended when he’d gotten so exhausted he collapsed in his office. Therapy had helped get him on his feet. Then he’d had the inspiration for the ATOM suit. There’d been a short return of depression when he’d found out the world had no problem moving on without him, which was why Rip’s offer to become a Legend held such appeal. Legends had a reason for being. Ray said yes and from there it was one mission and then another. He’d dealt with his break ups with Felicity and Kendra much the same way, falling into a pattern of looking to invention or mission instead of stopping and thinking too hard about it. Gideon at least had a subroutine to remind him to eat or sleep every once in a while.

What was he ever going to do when he couldn’t be a Legend anymore?

The sadness swept up in him, made him moodier than he wanted to be but John had laid out the truth. He tried for a smile, but it felt wrong and he dropped it. “Purpose can’t really last though, huh?”

“No, it can’t,” John said with a deep, understanding sigh. “But it’s motivator enough. Come on, we’ve got to help Sara.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized I was sitting on a bit of story and so did a big update. Not sure when the next update will be.


End file.
